


Be Still and Know

by ScarletteStar1



Category: Homeland
Genre: Caring, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I Ship It, Love, Saurrie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 02:37:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20284006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: Saul takes the Doom Watch, but this time he watches over Carrie.





	Be Still and Know

Never has the term "Doom Watch" held more weight as it does by her bedside.

He's sat up through the darkest hours of night watching terror bloom in the depths of secret nightmares, but it all pales in comparison to the confused sense of horror he has here and now, surveilling his protege as she writhes in her sheets.

Her hand is small in his. Or his hand is huge around hers. He tries to be gentle with her, tries to stroke the bumps of her knuckles with tenderness that does not belie his frustration or fear. _But let's be honest_, he thinks. He's always had a heavy hand when it comes to her. It's impossible not to. Give her an inch she takes a mile. Short leash, heavy hand, she's rebelled against the pressure of his guidance but in the end she's always responded more favorably to stick than carrot. Or at least he thought so.

It seems forever since her sister left, but when he glances at his watch, he sees it's only been a couple hours. Carrie's slept most of this time, but she tosses and whimpers now in what seems to be a state of semi consciousness. "Hey, hey," he shushes and brushes her hair away from her forehead. He leans over and kisses her temple, comes away with the salt of her on his own lips, which he licks repeatedly. "Be still and know, I'm here with you," he sings until he forgets the words and then he hums softly.

He still hears his own voice echo back to him in a plaintive whisper on the day of the bombing, "_Carrie? Carrie_?" She'd not answered and he'd thought all was lost. He continues humming now to try and sublimate that memory. He closes his eyes. Maybe he sleeps a little. When he opens his eyes, she holds his hand.

"You have a nice voice," she whispers. Her lips look dry and she licks at them trying to find some moisture in her mouth. Her medication must dry her out. Saul reaches for the cup on the bedside table and brings it to her lips. He holds her head up so she can sip and swallow and then repeat the process.

"How are you feeling?' He asks, hating how eager his voice sounds. 

"Maggie upped my meds earlier so I'm all foggy," she says and she looks it. Her eyes roll. "I feel like a rag doll."

"Just rest," Saul says. He offers her the cup again but she shakes her head so he places it back on the bedside table. 

"I heard you singing. It sounded nice." she says.

"You can thank my parents for that. They were insistent on singing every Shabbat at shul."

"You never told me that."

"There's lots I never told you, Carrie," his voice is just above a whisper. Instantly he begins compiling a list of the things he will share with her, the things he must tell her. But not now; when she's better, when she can attend. He wants her to know. _Fuck,_ he suddenly realizes there is a huge list of things he needs for her to hold in her brain for him. "Anyway, I'm sorry if I woke you."

"It's okay. I want to get up and work." She sits up with a dazed but determined expression. 

"No. You need your rest. That's a direct order." He pushes her back, but both his hands and his eyes are soft, so much more carrot than stick. 

She slumps back on her pillow with a frown. Her eyes try desperately to focus on him. "Isn't that a church song though?" 

"What?" He startles at her voice.

"The song you were singing. Isn't it a Christian church song?"

"Yeah? So?"

"So, you're Jewish."

"Eh, it's a good song. Songs are songs and it's all the same message about the same g dash d in my opinion," he shrugs.

"Tell that to Nazir," Carrie murmurs. 

"Don't think about Nazir right now," Saul says. He squeezes her hand. She squeezes back and her head lolls on the pillow. "I've got to get up. I've got to work, Saul. There's no time for this. We are deep purple."

"Okay, okay," he says and fumbles for time. "Snooze a bit and have something to eat. I brought some chicken soup. Are you hungry?"

"Not really," her face wrinkles in consternation. 

"Come on," he scoffs. "It's Jewish penicillin. Set you straight in no time."

"Fine," she wags her head against her pillow with a sleepy smile. 

"I'll go heat it up for you and be back in a few," Saul stands. He turns to exit the room, then turns back to her. He bends at the waist and kisses her forehead. He whispers, "Be right back."

"Mmmh," she says. She's already falling back asleep and he feels a knot of dread in his chest release itself. The relief he feels is profound. He walks down her stairs and shuffles into her living room. Papers are strewn everywhere. The colors in which they are coded pop out like a rainbow. A spectrum of color. A spectrum. A timeline! 

He forgets the soup and rifles through the papers. He works in a quick, steady rhythm. 

His lips still taste of salt. He licks and licks. He cannot make it go away.


End file.
